


Birds of a Feather, Falling Bewildered

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clorgy, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Morale Booster, Outer Rim Sieges, Season/Series 04, So Many Men So Much Ejaculate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: Captain Rex is loyal to his general, even when he probably shouldn't be.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).



> I wrote this down because it's one of those 'been in my head for years basically fully formed' stories, and I'm glad to have it out of my system. Alas, it is just as filthy on paper as it was in my mind, hence what is probably me overtagging it. I wrote this for Sarah/patientalien, because she wanted it so badly, and also because she was an amazing beta/cheerleader. Title comes from the Tim Curry song, "Birds of a Feather." I used a different TC song as the title for an Anakin/Obi-Wan/Bail Organa orgy that I wrote a while back. I recognize that I have a problem.

I suppose, were I for some reason forced to proffer an explanation as to why it happened, or how, precisely, I, Captain Rex of the 501st Clone Trooper legion, came to be considered complicit in such events, I would only be able to say this: 

I am, above all things, perhaps even to a fault, loyal to my general. 

Though for the sake of absolute honesty, this is not his typical mandate. It’s probably the effects of this blasted prolonged Outer Rim stay. It’s isolated, almost Wild Space territory, really, and aside from constantly waiting to be attacked, there isn’t much to do. It’s not a surprise that General Skywalker is keyed into the overall sense of restlessness around here. I sometimes think he knows our needs even better than we do.

He calls for Cody and myself first. There’s no cadence signaling immediate danger in his tone, and we walk shoulder-to-shoulder to the temporary enclosure where General Skywalker has bid us to come. The purpose becomes all too clear when Cody pulls the tent flap back to allow us entry, and something, to put it mildly, stops us short. That something is, well, General Kenobi.

It’s not merely the other general’s presence that is startling, to be sure. As most of the combined membership of the 501st and 212th often point out, where General Skywalker goes, General Kenobi is never more than two steps behind. Still, Cody and I are startled nonetheless. “Sir?” Cody queries beside me, and it’s from the both of us, really.

Master Kenobi’s head snaps up. I’m sure he would have made eye contact had he been able to, but blindfolds were pretty much entirely created to obscure that simple task, of course. That this particular blindfold has been appropriated off of General Kenobi’s own tunic hints strongly at the origin of precisely how it came to be sitting on his own face, obscuring his eyesight. Further proof also seems to come from the fact that General Kenobi’s arms are tied together behind his back with the fabric of another, darker colored obi. Also, there is the simple fact that General Skywalker is standing right there behind him.

I may have also forgotten to mention that General Kenobi is completely naked. It appears that he has come to be sitting in this chair, again, blindfolded, arms pinioned behind his back, not of his own accord, and that the party actually responsible has also seen fit to divest him of all of his clothing. To be certain, this is not a typical occurrence in the line of duty. Generals Kenobi and Skywalker have been captured before, of course, but their aggressors don’t usually need to strip them to make their point. I’m sure it’s understandable, then, why even seasoned troopers, such as Cody and myself, might be caught off guard by such odd circumstances. I’m even hoping that this might somewhat excuse any unorthodox behavior that said strange circumstances might elicit.

So General Skywalker is standing behind General Kenobi. Skywalker is fully clothed, aside from his reappropriated obi, and he looks rather proud of himself. This isn’t as strange, really, if you know General Skywalker like I do, but to be candid, it’s a relief to see him so bemused right now. This war has taken things from all of us, but General Skywalker has been hit particularly hard, the consequence of taking on so much atop a single pair of shoulders. We worry about him, Cody and I, and the other men do, too. Again, that’s probably what makes us so easily complicit in what’s about to take place - we just want him to keep smiling.

He is, by the way, smiling, like a contented puuri cat after devouring some hard-won prey. In this case, Master Kenobi is the prey, of course. By contrast, judging from the way he’s frowning, General Kenobi is not particularly pleased by this state of affairs. Still, it’s General Skywalker who speaks when Cody ventures to find out precisely what’s going on here.

“Gentlemen,” General Skywalker addresses us cordially, and it’s definitely one of the largest smiles we’ve seen on him in at least a month. “General Kenobi and myself wish to congratulate you on a job well done. At this point in the war, you’ve all gone above and beyond your posts, and the Republic is safer for it. I cannot think of anyone whose hands your men could be better off in than the two of you.”

“Thank you, Sir.” It really is very flattering. He doesn’t come out and say it, either, but I know he’s thinking about Umbara, about all that happened with General Krell in his forced absence. In truth, there hasn’t been time to sit and process the whole mess - even in a hellhole like this, it’s easy to push all the distracting feelings of loss and grief and revenge to the back of our minds, to concentrate on the tasks at hand because it’s still less painful than trying to work through the notion that we were all betrayed. 

Still, we know that General Skywalker is grieving along with us, and that even in his current playful state, there’s an undercurrent of guilt. We want him to recognize that we don’t blame him (or Master Kenobi, for that matter) for any of it; we need him to know how much he’s needed.

All that said, it’s about this point where General Skywalker begins undoing his pants, again, in some other fashion besides necessary nudity after a particularly injurious time on the battlefield and the like. Cody balks beside me. I decide it’s my turn to speak up: “Sir,” I ask, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” I guess that’s not entirely true; I understand that when General Skywalker cups General Kenobi’s chin, nuzzling his lower face while simultaneously encouraging him to relax his jaw and open his mouth, it means he’s about to put his Jedi captive to work, but I’m still unsure as to why we’re the target audience for such an act.

I also want to say that the display does not keep me from my usual demeanor of focused stoicism, but again, that would be something of a lie, because watching General Kenobi reluctantly open his mouth to encase General Skywalker’s now freed cock, hearing him even slurping a little when General Skywalker pulls back and then moves forward again, is suddenly making my armor tight.

“Good, Rex.” General Skywalker seems to recognize this, albeit most likely through the Force, rather than by glancing at my thankfully well-concealed nether regions. He rubs the back of General Kenobi’s head, and then shoves himself fully into his captive’s mouth, holding General Kenobi steady even as he appears to protest and attempts to buck away. “Good,” General Skywalker says again, and I’m not sure which of us he’s talking to now.

Then: “This is a morale booster,” General Skywalker explains, while General Kenobi’s head bobs as he continues sucking General Skywalker’s cock. “We want to show you how much you’re appreciated.” His breath catches. Cody is just as transfixed as I am by the show, especially hearing General Kenobi gurgle in irritation when General Skywalker pats him on one somewhat grizzled cheek and says, “swallow, Master.” He does, though he’s unable to stop a small bit of drool and come from co-mingling, or from nestling itself in his beard when General Skywalker pulls away suddenly. His coloring returns to normal shortly after his completion, and he pulls up his pants. “Your turn, now,” he tells us; and then, maybe, probably sensing our hesitation still, “That’s an order, men.”

Cody and I turn to look at one another. He doesn’t move, and so I feel obligated to. I step forward. Master Kenobi’s mouth is more swollen than before, and I imagine he’s still rather grumpy about all of this. “Go on,” General Skywalker coaxes, and I watch him smile when I fumblingly bring the head of my cock forward silently, parting General Kenobi’s lips. He doesn’t clench his teeth or anything, so I go deeper. His mouth is warm and tight. I can feel his tongue wash over the tip of my cock, possibly more instinctual than on purpose, but it definitely enhances things. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, though it’s not my first time in such a position, to be fair.

I’m taking a bit longer than General Skywalker did to come. I can’t help but think a little of his previous display has something to do with already being aroused for several hours while planning this ‘morale booster,’ and - oh. “There it is,” General Skywalker grins, and then suddenly, he’s behind me, reaching around, plucking my cock from General Kenobi’s abused mouth. “You can do it anywhere you want,” he tells me. For the record, being jerked off with a metal hand isn’t so bad. General Skywalker keeps his gloved, in any case; the warmth helps it to feel almost authentic. 

I am close now, needless to say. “Come on, Captain,” General Skywalker whispers, and nudges me closer to General Kenobi’s face until I can actually rub myself across his cheeks and up and down the bridge of his nose if the urge, for some reason, compelled me. It doesn’t, for the record, but between that and General Skywalker’s handy ministrations, and even the fact that Cody is still standing here and just kind of watching all of this happen all conspire to help me complete my mission, so to speak. It stripes the bridge of General Kenobi’s nose after all and even soils the obi around his eyes a bit. 

Still more of my ejaculate finds its way into General Kenobi’s beard. I don’t reach out to rub it in the way General Skywalker does now, wiping a line of jizz off of General Kenobi’s cheek with his index finger, and then shoving it and another finger inside of General Kenobi’s mouth, wiping them purposely along his teeth, coating his tongue. General Kenobi is panting a little when General Skywalker finally extracts his fingers, and I imagine General Skywalker could be ready to go again, now.

He doesn’t, though. “Commander Cody,” he says with mock formality, “it’s all up to you.” Dutifully, Cody steps forward to join the odd group project that has been started, in so many words. “I’m sorry about this, Sir.” Cody is smiling ruefully at General Kenobi’s seated form as he says this. Continuing to break from the established tradition thus far, he then squats, and then his hand closes around General Kenobi’s own cock, which, it seems prudent to note, is not precisely hating this. 

Another point of possible interest is how aroused I am by the sight of Cody deep-throating his Jedi General. It makes me wonder if this is how I myself might look doing something similar with General Skywalker, if sucking his cock might cause my cheeks to hollow in a similar fashion, if my eyes would be downcast in careful concentration like his. I’m probably going to incriminate myself somehow, now, but I’m even sort of blown away by the way Cody’s free hand wraps around his own cock, how he creates a loose fist with it and masturbates himself, crouched on the floor in front of his precious General, who wields absolutely none of the power in this surprising role reversal.

Cody comes with a harsh shout. He’s shaking a little as the rush of endorphins scatter to far flung corners of his system, but it doesn’t last long. Then, he does something else surprising: “Patience, Sir,” he says to General Kenobi, and there’s the barest hint of bemusement in his tone as he stands and redresses himself, but not before patting General Kenobi somewhat teasingly on the head. Unreleased, in more than one way, General Kenobi grunts in frustration.

The rest of us have the ability to look at one another, and now we do. I assume this unorthodox exercise has come to its natural conclusion, but General Skywalker seems to have other ideas. “I still need you for this, men,” he tells us.

Cody sort of grimaces. “For what?”

General Skywalker just grins again. “Crowd control.”

*

One of us has to keep things organized outside of the tent, making sure things stay safe and efficient, what with so many men standing around sort of listlessly. 

The other of us is tasked with monitoring the happenings inside of the tent. Cody and I flipped a coin for that one. I called Heads. I lost.

Even though we’re technically outdoors, the tent is an enclosed space, which means the air circulation is stale and poor. This is probably the worst part, then, of having inside-the-tent duty, the regular whiffs of the somewhat pungent aroma of clone ejaculate.

In any case, it’s almost certainly a worse deal for General Kenobi. I sort of lose count early on of how many of the men from the combined forces of the 501st and 212th have already been serviced, so to speak, but the state of General Kenobi’s chest and face and hair and even his groin, between his own arousal and the remnants of the men who opted to impale themselves on his cock, offers a pretty trustworthy estimate. Cody is keeping a legitimate headcount outside, in any case.

General Kenobi still has not been allowed to come. On the other hand, roughly three quarters of two legions of Clone Troopers have, in places and ways as expansive as their personalities. For instance, General Kenobi is sitting now, but a moment ago, one of Cody’s men and one of mine chose to sate themselves by hauling General Kenobi into their collective arms and entering him simultaneously. General Kenobi’s cock has also been touched, fondled, laved, but nobody has allowed him to take his release. Whether this is coincidence or something of a running joke at this point, I cannot ascertain. I just know that on the occasions in which General Skywalker has been back inside the tent to monitor the activity’s progress, he never isn’t seemingly intensely aroused by the ever-increasingly disheveled state of General Kenobi. Remarkably, however, aside from a couple of whimpers and some grunting, and the obvious visual of his semi-permanent arousal, General Kenobi is managing to come through this nearly unaffected.

The eventual yet sudden lull in activity catches me off-guard. “Cody, what’s going on out there?” I mutter into my wrist communicator, almost like this is business as usual, like I haven’t just borne witness to two full clone legions coating one of their esteemed leaders in copious, long pent-up jizz.

Cody’s response feels likewise ironic. “It’s done, I think,” he returns. “I guess it’s time to free General Kenobi and-”

“Hold up.” As if on cue, General Skywalker breezes through the tent entrance anew, and beelines for General Kenobi. “We’re not finished quite yet,” he offers, and begins molesting and, I’ll just say it, blowing General Kenobi with gusto. “He’s close,” General Skywalker says between breaths. “I can feel it.” He begins to alternate sucking and fondling General Kenobi’s cock. I can’t be sure, but I have a feeling whatever is happening between them silently in the Force is enhancing what’s taking place here. I’d wager that’s why General Kenobi is suddenly licking his lips anxiously and why he’s trying to buck forward, towards General Skywalker’s hands and mouth. “Say please, Master,” General Skywalker teases.

“Please, Anakin,” General Kenobi says immediately, and when he can’t see why General Skywalker suddenly pulls away from physical contact: “Please!”

“Since you asked nicely,” General Skywalker says, and there’s that confounded smile again; not that General Kenobi can see it, though probably it’s obvious through the Force. Or maybe none of that matters when his violent flailing and General Skywalker’s touches finally culminate in an orgasm that I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Master Yoda felt clear back on Coruscant. 

It takes a while. I wouldn’t be surprised if it made General Kenobi tear up, although I can’t be sure because of that still present blindfold. Likewise, self-preservation leads me to believe that whatever kind of aftermath this scheme of General Skywalker’s has wrought is best left strictly between himself and General Kenobi. This is why I’m all too happy to leave the tent at last, and join my fellow brethren outside.

Cody nods at me as I walk over to stand once again side-by-side. “There’s a line for the showers,” he offers, and we both chuckle. Everything is the same in this moment as it always has been, even though it’s all different now somehow, to; but I’m confident, and I would wager Cody is too, that as long as we continue to stand together, shoulder-to-shoulder, we can weather whatever this war has left to throw at us.

*

The tent flap is closed for several days following, and the temporary encampment is generally untouched. And then one day, there’s a sign tacked to the front, written in perfunctory yet hurried scrawl:

“‘Morale booster’ inside. Enter through rear.”

There are other options, of course. The positioning of the Jedi General inside of the tent, however - crouched on the dirt floor, bottom bare and lifted upwards at a highly suggestive angle, limbs harnessed by a complicated system of rope ties, obi-cum-blindfold firmly in place - seems to encourage such an invitation. The piece of flimsy tacked to the inside of the tent, labeled, with some apparent cheek, “Visitors’ Log,” is likewise adorned with roughly twenty tally marks. 

And though he can’t precisely see them, nor is his Master there at that moment to address directly, Anakin Skywalker smiles ruefully, even while unsuccessfully shifting to lessen the sensation of encrusted ejaculate in at least three places so far. “‘Jedi do not seek revenge, Anakin,’” he snorts out loud, and then readies himself when he hears the tent door get pushed aside by his twenty-first or so guest.


End file.
